Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.

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Recordings

Iain Burnside and Ailish Tynan return to Signum with their second disc of Irish Songs and arrangements—this time from a range of different twentieth Century composers, including John Cage, Samuel Barber, Benjamin Britten and Herbert Hughes.» More

'This is a superb collection… This will be one of my favorite sets of 1995' (Fanfare, USA)'Delivered faultlessly. The Plough Boy whistles jauntily, the bluebells ring in The Ash Grove, the Miller of Dee sings at his workplace. Exquisite' (T ...» More

Details

Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin
On him who the brave sons of Usna betrayed!
For ev’ry fond eye which he waken’d a tear in,
A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o’er her blade.

By the red cloud which hung over Conner’s dark dwelling,
When Ulad’s three champions lay sleeping in gore
By the billows of war which so often high swelling,
Have wafted these heroes to victory’s shore!

We swear to avenge them! no joy shall be tasted,
The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed,
Our halls shall be mute, and our fields shall lie wasted,
Till vengeance be wreaked on the murderer’s head!

Yes, monarch! though sweet are our home recollections,
Though sweet are our tears that from tenderness fall;
Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes and affections,
Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all.

Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin
On him who the brave sons of Usna betrayed!
For ev’ry fond eye which he waken’d a tear in,
A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o’er her blade.

By the red cloud which hung over Conner’s dark dwelling,
When Ulad’s three champions lay sleeping in gore
By the billows of war which so often high swelling,
Have wafted these heroes to victory’s shore!

We swear to avenge them! no joy shall be tasted,
The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed,
Our halls shall be mute, and our fields shall lie wasted,
Till vengeance be wreaked on the murderer’s head!

Yes, monarch! though sweet are our home recollections,
Though sweet are our tears that from tenderness fall;
Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes and affections,
Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all.